Aftermath Redux
by Yunasdestiny
Summary: There are worse things in this world, and in life, other than zombie apocalypses. Sometimes...the worst kind of darkness is that of the human heart and what it can do once it's been robbed of all hope. Helena centric. COMPLETE! Helena x Leon.


**AN: Let's try something a little bit different, shall we? The piece really speaks for itself and...I don't really have too much to say about it other than life gives us all the inspiration we need to create.**

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><p>The crisp September air pushed past her and down the city streets, and with it, the tell-tell signs of autumn. It was her favorite of the seasons. The way the trees would begin to turn from green to orange and yellow, or the way it felt when a cool breeze sent a chill up her spine so suddenly. Families were preparing for the holidays, children seemed more excited about schools going on break, and there was this overall sense of togetherness washing over the city. For a little while, this place was safe from the things she had experienced—these civilians had their innocence intact.<p>

The longer she walked the dampened streets, the more she would remember; it hadn't been that long since losing Deborah, but knowing her sister was in a better place made it a bit easier to deal with. Sure, she had no family to speak of now, but better this than the alternative. Lingering guilt plagued her dreams night after night, but then...morning would come...and she was reminded that there was no more suffering. No more tears. Just...rest.

Both hands stuffed as deep as they could go in the shallow pockets of her light jacket, Helena kept walking, letting her eyes stay fixated on the cracked pavement and watched each of her feet follow one after another. It had been an impulsive decision to go for a walk so late at night. No plan of action nor a destination in mind. She had just needed to get out of her apartment and into the midnight air so as not to suffocate within those four walls. But unlike so many times before, this had nothing to do with Deborah, or Simmons, or anything else that went on a few short months before.

"Excuse me miss, but could you spare some change?"

Her calm, rhythmic stride halted at the sound of a weak, downtrodden voice, snapping her head up rather suddenly to find the source. Her muscles had tensed defensively, but her sights were met with a strangers face—a feeble elderly man draped in weathered clothes covered in layer after layer of dirt. His face decorated in a shameful expression, she simply caught his lowered eyes and let out a small and faint breath before letting herself relax a little. Clearly his situation forced him into embarrassment. Having to resort to panhandling day after day, hearing the sneers or having to witness the glares of middle to upper class workers? Of course it would take a toll on a man's pride and destroy their humanity.

"Here," A hand removed itself from her jacket and grabbed at her wallet tucked safely away in her jeans. A few different bills lined the inside of it, and without hesitation, Helena pulled a fifty out and held it out for him to take. "I won't question you if you won't question me, alright?"

A simple smile was given to the old man, watching him choke back a breathless cry as he skittishly looked up at her. Slowly, his shoulders began to straighten, and the worrisome frown found its way into a gracious smile. He carefully cupped both hands on either side of her own and bent down to let his forehead rest gently upon the joined hands. She could feel the coldness that seeped deep into his dry skin that must have been painfully chapped and calloused from the cruel outdoors. It made her smile almost falter, but she held on long enough and let him relish the feel of joy a little longer, hoping it would perhaps renew his faith in the kindness of strangers.

"It gets better." Reaching to place a comforting hand on his shoulders just in time to feel them tremble as he quietly cried. "You just have to believe that it will."

He simply nodded, giving himself a moment or two to compose himself at what seemed like a simple gift. But to this man? Helena Harper had been an angel in disguise. When he stood erect before her once more, you could see the hopelessness that once clouded his eyes begin to dissipate, only to reveal two beautiful and deep blue iris' that sparkled in the moonlight. Before he could say thank you, she simply nodded and pulled her hand from his and left the money enclosed safely inside his palm, continuing in the same direction before he had startled her.

A small gift. A good deed. Something not very many people would be so quick to do without interrogating and further shaming him into abject humiliation. It made her feel that much more alive, but that feeling was merely fleeting, finding herself becoming lost in thought after another block or two down the road. Hands clutched into fists inside those same shallow jacket pockets, she now suffered the thoughts that never really left her in the first place. It was times like this that she was acutely aware of how alone in this world she really was.

Right hand escaping the confines of the pocket, she gently rubbed at her nose that had become pink with the chilly temperatures of a fall night. Her body began to ache more and more over time as the winds blew harder, not realizing she had absentmindedly turned down the back streets and was navigating through shady, dimly lit alleyways instead. They proved to be the harshest to withstand, acting more like breezeways and lowering the otherwise comfortable temperatures. Still...she pretended not to notice the toll it was starting to take on herself.

Thoughts of her sister and the outbreak blended into blurred images, or the way her sister had looked as she fell that was permanently emblazoned in her mind, but oddly, another person surfaced. She'd have to be a fool not to admit how much she actually thought about him. In fact, if she were honest, he was the reason she had began to aimlessly wander the city at night. It didn't matter how dangerous it was, or how far her feet carried her, so long as she kept walking. The longer she sat at home, the easier it was to search for answers inside a bottle or two...or three.

A scowled expression could be seen settling into her face, knitting her brows together and clutching her fists harder inside those pockets. Her pace would quicken, and in the next second, fix itself into a slow, grueling one—back and forth as her eyes squinted while looking on at the beaten concrete. A thin sheen of sweat began to bead upon her forehead and she could start to feel the heat rise in her cheeks, knowing her skin must have had a faint pink complexion by now. Her heart pounding inside her chest, she could hear the beat and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach signaled that nausea was imminent.

Oh, yes. Any time she thought about her accidental partner, things began to happen. Unexplained bouts of anger, frustration, hurt and betrayal riddled Helena relentlessly at the mere mention of his name. Sure. He believed in her when nobody else would. And it was true he had saved her too many times to count, but so had she. They had to rely on each other when situations seemed impossible and hopeless, but that's what partners are for. But more importantly, he had been there for the aftermath of Tall Oaks. After the unimaginable horrors of China. Hell, he even helped clear her name when she had been ready to give up and accept whatever punishment would have been bestowed upon her after the fact.

He was there when she was grieving—stopped by her apartment to throw away the mountains of bottles and scotch glasses that had been the victims of one too many nights left alone. Kept her afloat with the job he had risked his reputation for to keep her employed. He had even stayed over a few times, promising that he would do whatever it took to help her clean up and pick herself back up. He...did a lot of things; so many that she felt incredibly indebted to him.

Leon was all she had left.

Perhaps that was her greatest downfall. Somewhere between friendship and partnership, she allowed herself to cross a line that shouldn't have been crossed. Getting too comfortable. Falling for something that was never hers to fall for. It wasn't his good looks, or his somewhat lame charm, but, entertaining the idea that there could ever be more than what they had. She fell for the legendary Leon Kennedy and ended up committing romantic suicide in doing so. But perhaps the simplest idea of being happy with him, or hoping to get the nod of approval—to tame the in-tameable—was the greatest mistake of all. She thought things were going her way for once in a long while; even getting the desired results and sharing a handful of innocent, intimate moments stolen here and there...

Until he disappeared.

Gone. No phone calls. No messages. No texts or voicemails. Just a phantom that haunted her apartment and serve as a reminder of what could have been. Even now, the once guarded brunette finds herself looking at where he used to lay next to her in bed, watching over her while she slept. The way his lips would curve into a lazy smile when she would notice he was still an arms length away from her sleeping form. Or the way his hair always hung in his eyes, having to shake his head every so often so he could see the television when they loafed around and watched cheesy sitcoms to pass the time. Even her kitchen held the fondness of memories, thinking back to when they cooked their first meal together and, subsequently, shared the first of many kisses.

Stopping to catch her breath, she turned to force her back against the wall of a random building, jarring roughly from the slightly harsh contact. Of all the things to be upset at, she was more upset with herself than him. Where had she gone wrong? What had she done for him to just up and leave without so much as a 'goodbye'? All she wanted now, more than anything else, was to speak to him—to know he was alive and well, to tell him that he was missed, and loved. She wanted him close. She missed everything about him. But...that was exactly the problem.

"I can't make you want me. I can't even make you love me, if that's what it was." Angrily resting a foot against the wall and pinching the bridge of her nose as another headache began to creep up on her. "But what I do know...is that I lost the one good thing in my life that made it worth living."


End file.
